Step inside Sushi Rock in Arlington and your pulse quickens from the rock ‘n’ roll blaring from corner speakers. There’s a lot of red and black, with drumsticks (percussion, not chicken) lining the mirrored backsplash of the bar. The servers and bartenders all look like members of the Crazy 88 from “Kill Bill.” The guys have wear punk blue hairdos or slick back their jet-black hair like a ’60s refugee. The gals are comely and walk with a little attitude. My bartender (a woman) wears a tight red dress with just enough wiggle room to bend over and take … my order. <wink>

This place opened about three years ago just around the corner from our rental property, but I didn’t get a chance to enjoy the place until recently. Halfway between the Courthouse and Rosslyn neighborhoods of Arlington, Sushi Rock’s modern building stands out in the middle of mixed-use retail-residential hell – all glass, rhomboid angles and spooky reds and grays, featuring an inviting patio area perfect for summer-to-fall happy hour sessions.

The miso was standard – a little Japanese comfort soup on a cool summer night in D.C.

AC/DC’s favorite sushi roll had to be brought over on a large tray using two hands – about eight inches of tempura shrimp, avocado, cucumber, crab stick, tobiko and negi with Japanese aioli. I ate it so quickly that I didn’t have time to take a picture. It was hearty and creamy – very meritorious in my book. For the first time, I thought I might walk away from a sushi meal not feeling hungry after an hour.

Shift change at Sushi Rock.

Five minutes later, I ordered a plate of steamed Kobe dumplings (pictured above) served with a semi-sweet, soy-based dipping sauce. It was pretty good when you put it all together, and my belly was finally full after spending $30 worth of “Kill Bill” cuisine.

If I still lived in this neighborhood, I could see myself hanging out here. The happy hour is pretty generous – $4 for most drinks, $6 for sangrias, you wussies – and the scene was lively, as evidenced by the guys and gals still wearing work attire gargling through their fourth or fifth mai-tais.